View Full Version : How The Orb Came To Pass (Solo)
How The Orb Came To Pass (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bAUK-aoqt8)
1836
Covet not the gold-threaded coat,
Grasp the years when you are young,
When the flowers open come pluck them;
Do not wait to gather a spent spray from an empty bough.
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There was little to be said of callous men. Nor was there much to be done about their presence in society at large, at least that’s what Lady Gregory held to be true. Such scandalous notions formed the basis of the conversation between the withered wretch of last year’s glamour, and a rather jaded but enduring Ruby La Roux. Boredom is as much the lady’s realm as delicate cakes and stale odour, she mused in between passing comments. Lady Gregory asked after Ruby’s husband, to which she replied:
“Beyond all expectation my husband has ensured our holdings have remained innocuously clean in the recent month. Whilst I have been otherwise detained with business in the morose docklands he has done all I would have. A thoroughly modern notion I understand, and one he will no doubt take much ado over.” It was also something he would no doubt rather castrate himself other, than be forced to declare in civil company. The fact that she had somehow betrayed her partner didn’t phase her, she knew he would no doubt be slating her presence to his ‘male’ counterparts in equal measure. His peers would hear of all her exploits, undergarments and peculiar bed time habits. “It is very presumptuous of me to ask a question in return Lady Gregory, but is it possible you ask such courtesies in fear of me asking the same in return? Has Sir Lyle returned from the front lines, or will he be taking,” Ruby waved the fan tentatively as she mulled over the right line, “an ‘extended leave’ from the city?”
The look of shock on the elderly woman’s face brought an amusement to Ruby that made the afternoon’s whittling all the more worthwhile. Whilst they dined on delicious treats from a dozen bakeries, and enjoyed tea and truffles, all of origins she could not pronounce; the servants and lower echelons of the city’s nobility waited on their proclaimed matriarch. The dreary tangents that the ladies of the court embraced with false enjoyment made Ruby’s jowls appear and her back drop with repetitive tensing, so much so she had to discreetly pinch her thigh between gobbets of lacklustre gossip to remain upright. Lady Gregory described, in a sharp intake of breathe, that her husband would indeed be waylaid on the front line for another month or so, but that was in no way a sign of foul play; Ruby smiled politely and nodded from behind the safety of the fan’s cool breeze she painstakingly maintained as shield.
Lady Gregory whittled on about the frivolities of war, and certainly, such frivolities of war in distant lands that had no impact on the citizens and ‘good folk’ of the city. You could smell her disgust, alongside the dense, slightly damp humidity of the reading room and slight hint of lemon from the cake slices arranged on floral plate stands on tables throughout the room. Whilst the Lady talked, Ruby turned to counting their number, arranging them into groups of French fancies, Durham Slices, and Oatmeal cookies…
Oh dreary son of wine…the conversation between the ladies turned from doom mongering to another, a girl no older than sixteen who had no doubt recently been announced. Her simple diamond tiara and white dress where at terrible odds with the floral and mahogany antiquities of the Gregory household, but she maintained a sense of natural ease regardless. Ruby admired the girl’s bravery, be it feigned or real. Even though she was a mere debutant, for the last two years at least; Lady Gregory had instructed all her servants to send invitations, be they cordial, tea or ball, with brief comments on which room they would be residing in, or what to wear. She’s either too pretty to know better, or she’s trying her luck…
Uncertain of a good time to insert herself into the new conversation on matters of the theatre, for fear of seeming too familiar with the machinations of the ‘street urchins and brigands,’ she brought a recollection of the previous day’s events into the fore of her memory to bite down her urges to respond out of term. It was Duffy’s idea for her to return to court, even as a mere ‘strumpet for Lord Iam’ she had the place by his side and had to maintain an image of enjoyment, the trappings of her marriage were pleasurable to her to some extent, but it had gotten her in a ruckus to the point where she’d found herself at the steps of the Prima Vista wearing a ball gown. Much talk of her disappearance from the Winter Ball remained flickering in the air even now.
After his departing speech, she‘d been given explicit instructions. ‘Whilst I’m gon’ Ruby, you Getcha back to that man o’ yours and see to it Lady Ruby does ‘er bit for the maintain’ of principles, understand?’ Of course, she’d listened, but hadn’t intended to honour her word until the invitation had arrived and some ghostly hands had urged her shoes to walk there without thought. Scanning the room she paid attention to the spiral etchings and woodwork, to the bookshelves of trophy novelettes and gardening guides and sighed. "Why did I bother?"
“Ruby?” Lady Gregory had heard the slip of the tongue and sat, somewhat startled, staring at her. She cursed as she realised her thoughts had turned into words, La Roux was now indeed, very red in the face. The other ladies, who’d remained on the verges of her radar until now followed suit in simulated, mocking disgust. Was it so bad, she replied, to show one’s tiredness or resentment of the length of court? The question raised caused further shock, to the point where even Ruby wished she’d held back. “I am most humbly apologetic Lady Gregory, forgive me. I of course enjoy these theoretical teas and the conversation amongst like minded women of the city but…” she set the fan down on her lap and began to annunciate her words not with speech alterations, but gestures, “do you not sometimes wonder what we could be doing?” In unison the three women chimed together the expected response. “I am not sure what, in response to your query, but we talk of the city without-” Lady Gregory interrupted her with a raised hand and stern apparition of rage on her face.
“Ladies of the court do not question or raise matters of experience amongst themselves. It is our place to attend to the needs of the institution some of us are born into and it is our place, furthermore, to keep those traditions emplaced on the ramparts of Scara Brae’s history.” Ruby raised an eyebrow, the pause was clearly a sign Lady Gregory thought little of her to tear down her limited authority in one fell raking of her talons. To vent her anger, Ruby compared the elderly woman to the book ends, tattered window sills and cobwebbed chandeliers that surrounded her in the poky reading room; established, yet out of touch with modern living, style and semantic comprehension. “You will consider your outburst most severely Ruby, and do so with haste before the gentleman return from their perambulation!” Such a remark meant only one thing to all onlookers, and Ruby rose from the high backed padded chair with due accord to the ‘traditions’ mentioned. She bowed politely and pulled on the hem of her crimson dress. She left the room with a sassy but provincial walk, not dissimilar to one proactive night time women used, no doubt that would cause further insult to injury and ‘due accord to manners.’
Stepping out into the airy entrance hall it dawned on Ruby that she’d very rarely paid attention to the house itself. The curved balcony had many doors, none of which she’d entered, and it’s dark oak and teak features naturally flowed down the grand staircase onto the teal tiles that were imported from far and wide. Then, out there, through the great oak doors you’d come to the small but well maintained floral garden, and then out onto the bustling carriage street beyond. A much larger, and more archaic chandelier hung here too, catching her attention as she descended the staircase with airs and graces nobody was present to see. It was a shame so few others, asides from those fortunate ladies of court who gained Lady Gregory’s favour ever had the chance to explore the more tantamount examples of the city’s architecture. Even if this house in particular was abhorrent in other ways…
The smell of stale carpet and rot left Ruby’s nostrils, to be replaced with a more breezy, spring time aroma. At the bottom of the stairs she took it upon herself to adjust the hem of her dress and the elasticity of her breeches, presuming herself alone in nobody’s company but shadows and dust. Somebody, from behind a pillar to the left asked her if she required assistance with her adjustments, to which she replied with a startled whelp. “I demand the shadows to show their face, at this very instance!” She took several steps backwards towards the far railing, the right side of the entrance hall suddenly becoming more welcoming and alluring, more sanctuary than prison. “I am sorry,” replied the voice, which soon became a visual source.
“Lilith!” Ruby loosened her tense shoulders and rested her lady-like hand on her bosoms, for they were simply too large and taught in her corset to count as one. “If you weren’t like a sister to me I’d gut you with my heel where you stand!” A tense pause followed, then laughter quickly scurried to hushes. “Let us take to the kitchen, through the door behind you - we risk the danger of being overheard if we stay out in the open,” as they scurried through the heavy iron door, devoid of any window or lock, Lilith rasped a question as to whom was in the house. “Lady Gregory, two others, myself, you,” Ruby shut the door behind her and pushed her accomplice into the semi-gloom beyond, “and I am not very much mistaken, the butler, Tonsom.”
Lilith expressed her concern for the lateness of the hour and how she’d been held up cleaning the library floor of it’s decrepit degradation, but smiled nethertheless, “all is as planned Ruby, Pete’s out in the garden ‘elpin’ ‘imself tossups, and when you go back up we can scutt (‘to steal’) the key to the mansion and ‘ave us some shenanigans finding’ the orb, ya?” The red haired mistress knew at heart what her friend was saying, but having slipped into the monolithic role she was becoming accustomed to, had to take a few moments to consider she’d understood the slang definitions correctly.
“Just you be careful, even though the houseguests are pre-occupied with the withering drone of that incessant woman, there may still be opportunity yet for our little rouse here to be discovered. This job has been a good chance for you to learn of the verdant path of deception, as well as a good way of securing potatoes,” she looked around the kitchen pleasingly, “and other temptations.” The kitchen was a small and densely cluttered affair, juxtaposed with the grand and archaic designs of the ancient, dwindling house around it. The heavy brick and yet all so breezy windows gave it a claustrophobic yet open feel, and the footsteps of the two women echoed slightly with every step. As Ruby leant against the heavily laden harvest table, Lilith asked of her composure.
“Oh,” Ruby began, straightening her hair with the palms of her hands and adjusting the various feathers and beads which hung their, rebelling against fashionable and sensual conformity. “I don’t know, I think I am holding up the façade as best as one might. I let slip a rebellious tongue earlier, which is why I had to vacate their company for a moment to ‘consider my ills,’ but all in, I do not think they suspect the very thing they fear is operating in their midst!” She bit into a carrot, and crunched it as a show of pause, of allowing Lilith to reply.
The ‘operation’ as Duffy had called it, was a remarkably simple and old trick to perform. It consisted of one actress, who took on the role of a recent debutant married into the security of Scara Brae’s wealthy. In addition to this, one backdoor actress, who would receive recommendation into employment by the new debutant, and then this breech in safety would result in resources being drained, references being stolen, and all in all, general mischief being conducted under the very noses of the judges, aristocrats and mages who made the Tantalum’s life so hard. Ruby didn’t blame them, but they needed to survive, needed to keep the children content. What’s a few roddens, potatoes, eggs and flour to them?
“So,” Lilith continued after a brief pause where she was certain Ruby had fallen asleep. “I will take up the lady’s tea and we’ll be ‘avin’ you back up with ‘em. Pete tales the potatoes back to the Prima, then you hop skip and jump, maybe sing too, your way out of the dinner party this evening’ and all’s well that ends well…” Ruby nodded, Lilith smiled, all was well indeed. “There’s some pie on the shelf in the larder, ‘ave yourself something proppa’ to eat before you go back up Ruby, you look like someone’s sung your chanter’s death knell!” The blonde haired and sprightly maid, enjoying her pretend servitude far too much departed with a spring in her step like the lengths of curls on her shoulders. Ruby added a stern but fake command as she did so, in case anyone where to overhear or see them leaving within short step of one another. So far, all was going to plan… If their calculations, their composure, and of course, their disguises kept them in place for just a few hours longer…the troupe would then have the key to finding the Orb of Attainment, and be just a bit closer to financial comfort.
The pie was indeed where Lilith said it would be, and it’s crisp and well baked lid secluded the filling from the outside world, like a heavy vault door hiding away gold and diamonds. Ruby almost forget where she was, who she was for a moment, deciding to simply tear into the pie with her hand to heft a chunk of it out with her trowel like fingers. “Now now Ruby, frequent the arena of your discontented youth here and you’ll lose all you’ve acquired,” she took up a knife and fork and went about placing a slice on a clay earthenware plate instead. She sat at the harvest table, pushing aside vegetables as she did so, and tucked in. Despite it being cold, it was alluring, meaty and hefty, exactly what she needed. A good strong hearty meal was what anyone needed, and certainly, to sit up there with those women, a woman like Delacrouix needed a good constitutional lathering.
A moment passed in sunstroke heaven, and soon she picked herself up from the table post long dinner sigh to place the plate in the heavy basin at the back of the kitchen and the pie in the ice cupboard; a modern marvel she rarely had the time, need or funds to purchase for her own home. Leaving the kitchen behind required a clearing of the throat and a few well enunciated lines from Le Garde’s Le Foux and the elegant folk tale Samman’s Wish, both brought her slipping accent back into the perfectly pronounced lady-like tongue she utilised to generate her false image of class. She turned the handle and pulled.
Ruby stepped out into the hall once more, adjusting her bra, hem and necklace as she did so. She was satisfied upon seeing her image in the grand mirrored entrance, satisfied very much so. Looking up in such a hall one would see the epicentre of the chandelier, invisible from the balcony or from anywhere except standing on the circular mural, imported from Radasanth. Buried in a forest of crystal shards, baubles and long ribbons of glass was a small blue orb, whose light radiated through the crystals and cast a bright gleam throughout the rafters. Unfortunately for Ruby, it was not the Orb of Attainment, but the Lightsworn Orb. It was worthless, except to keep paths lit; but Ruby made a passing wish that the Orb they searched for would be just as majestic and breath taking. Lady Gregory no doubt held the artefact in such a high esteem she’d had it kept in the chandelier so it was out of reach from all except winged thieves and angels.
Shaking her head with a tired sense of unwilling participation, Ruby began to speak calmly to herself, uttering the first line of re-introduction she would use as she politely and all but silently entered the reading room. “Mrs Gregory, it is time you and I had a short discourse on semantics of class…”
“We walk out into the snow, the drifts of the fields and plains of Concordia’s environs our warm, solicited embrace…” As Lilith placed the tea tray on the table next to Lady Gregory, Ruby’s theatrical entrance garnered further attention of all present, the silence following broken only by gently clattering bone china. She’d slipped in behind the maid and chosen a more lucrative response to the impending question from their host, who no doubt wanted to learn more of the causes of the red woman’s lack of composure.
In her absence almost nothing had changed. The women were sat almost universally in identical poses with the same cakes and tea cups by their sides, fans waving, coy smiles brandished tentatively with white teeth and perfect dimples worn like weapons on a sword swingers hip. She waited for Lilith to set down the fresh pot and wipe the handle with a handkerchief, as Lady Gregory’s neuroticism dictated, and the moment she passed her they winked and she took a step further into the feminine sanctum. “You wish to know no doubt, the cause of my early outburst so; allow me a brief moment of theatrical glamour to dictate to you my reasoning and conflicts.”
She paused momentarily, allowing Lady Gregory to give her vocal approval and with it Ruby stepped fully into the room and stood in the middle of the gathered ladies, on the old floral rug which kicked up fine sprays of dust as she pounced. “I am not, as you may very well say behind my back a woman born into this noble house of Scara Brae, I have not even seen a woman as fine or as noble as foretold outside of these walls. Truth be told I am not satisfied with money or with material possessions, I care not for the life you so humbly assume I would do and die and daintily destroy for.” The girl in white let her fan drop at the appropriate moment, adding a gasp of shock and disgust for pure dramatic effect. She interrupted with a ‘why?’
“Because I met my husband, the most servitude of men and the most humble of romantics out in the snow as a street bound woman. I wore red rags devoid of riches, I carried a basket through the rime bound chill selling petty wares to petty people in petty times; I had no future, no hope, no chance. In the snow…the white fields, I found something that I thought I had lost to time years ago, I found love.” Lady Gregory rolled her prudish eyes and took up her cup to take her tea through boredom, or perhaps through veiled curiosity, as Ruby twirled and expressed herself most out of terms, she couldn’t tell from the glances she shot her host.
“Love?” The third woman, who had not spoken at all until now broke the natural flow Ruby’s words possessed. It drew her attention to her face almost at once, her memory struggling to recall her name in their earlier introductions. Duchess? Lady? Drat! “What do you know of love Miss Ruby, a man with a ring on his finger in this day and age means nothing more to us than the security of fixtures and fittings and a satisfactory setting to bring a new child, a new protégé into this harrowing world…there is no love here, no ‘icicle’ of romance - you are foolish and brash to think otherwise.”
It was a reply and point of view that Ruby very much expected to encounter. Bringing her hand up to rest on her hip she knew exactly how to rile the feathers of the establishment, she’d been trained and thoroughbred into thinking so lowly of it since the first footfall on the streets as an orphan - she was rarely the sort to look back. “I would expect no less of those born into servitude of the state, and expect even less than that of people who knew nothing of the poverty and livelihoods of the city’s citizens,” the girl in white commented on the truth in Ruby’s words but is quickly shot down by two disapproving glares. “See! That is the tone I am speaking of - closed borders and congregating remedies that deal with problems you do not wish to deal with. Why can I not find love before marriage? Why cannot I, a humble orphan, seller of wares, actress, domestic woe and woman of the new found court truly come to love my husband without his money, his wares, his worldly ways? I care not for business,” she turned and turned and turned, looking at each of the women in turn like a turning top, “I care not for money.”
Lady Gregory laid her hand on the handle of the newly prepared teapot and like a willow’s bending bough she poured a long strain of tea into the cup. The trickling water sounded as loud and torrential as a waterfall, louder perhaps than the winds which roared through the mountains to the north; the silence grew unbearable, no-one dared speak before the host, no-one dared break the decorum of the ages. Except me… The twirling of the tea with a teaspoon, silver and expensive, just like a noble woman’s tongue continued for several moments until it rattled on the cup’s edge and was lain to rest on the table. Lady Gregory took a sip, her purse, cracked lips of dignified age savouring the strong odour of Akishiman Grey Blend with a deep satisfaction younger women might find in sex, but would soon forget.
“Interesting…” A single world that said a thousand philosophies, “most interesting. Ruby, child, please, be seated.” She waited for Ruby to sit in her brown ochre chair and adjust herself before continuing. “A brief show of my own emotions breaks many echelons of our circle, true…but I wish to say something out of turn I hope you will come to understand in future years. They are kind words of wisdom, a halcyon remnant from my youth, so listen well.” She looked at the others, including them in the portent, “I too loved my husband, before discovering his wealth and his lifestyle.”
The chattering of teeth grew louder, even if it were metaphorical, you could almost feel the wave of nausea hitting the room. It knocked the ornaments from the mantel, and scattered torn pages down the stair way with apparent phantasmal epic scale. Lady Gregory told Ruby, in the plainest of terms she had also discovered her husband at a dance; and fallen for him before even knowing his name. “Woe me for later embarking on marriage, I did not discover he was a military man of nobility, and thus rank, until some time after our ceremony. He departed for the borders to the south soon after, and he has periodically travelled where his position dictates him to go for nigh on forty years.”
“We pay for such love, do not misunderstand. We pay for the closeness of being and the heartfelt remembrance of those golden hours in more than blood,” she sipped from the cup again, narcissistically brandishing the craftsmanship like a social veil. “We pay in servitude to this life, to this cordial reticence of the former glory of our city. You cannot show feelings in public, you attend petty event after petty dinner, chained and constrained by rules, laws and hidden pitfalls. Do not forget this Ruby, you either forgo your husbands affections, or you sacrifice a part of yourself to Lady Ruby, to the image thereof.” She went on further still on the nature of being announced as a debutant and how the old lives of the city’s women were washed away, baptised in that social melancholy. Ruby’s chest grew cold as she was weakened by the revelation.
I was wrong… Or she was, the thawing of Lady Gregory’s temptemptious heart did not last and soon the chill gale blew once more. It was noted by all that the hour was growing late, and the darkening window pane portended the evening’s dawn approaching. The gentlemen, the younger lady’s husbands, the pastor of the district, and two other suitable bachelors would soon return from their business dealings as Ruby understood it and then they could travel downstairs to the dining room. The fine tea and cakes of the upper echelons would swiftly be replaced with a sumptuous and homely feast of roast meat, vegetables of every description, candle sticks, fire’s glow, and wine sparkling and expensive and utterly intoxicating. Ruby thought Lady Gregory was right in a twisted irony, this was a lifestyle you gained so much from, but at the same time, lost a great deal to.
She would still take the orb…but her compassionate and altruistic notions were making her head reel. She stood and walked over to the tall chair by the fire and helped Lady Gregory to her feet with a courtly push of the knees. Soon it would be time to make her excuses and leave, timed perfectly, as all dinners were, this gave her until after the second course to divulge her heart’s desire to another of the gentlemen, and plant the seeds of corruption and drunken tomfoolery that she’d need to learn of the orb’s location. Putting up the veil once more, they all left the drawing room in ascending order of age, arms tucked neatly and courteously to there sides and long dresses flowing with pomp and regalia fit for queens. Out onto the landing they sprawled, and down to the evening’s folly.
The ladylike procession came down the great open staircase like a royal fanfare, cascading glamour and latent sexuality in waves. Lady Gregory to the fore, and Miss Ruby to the rear, the dresses were arrayed like a rainbow of odd hue…grey, white, pink, red, smatterings of orange and brown here and there. The timing of their arrival to the ‘folly’ promised on the moment of their departure was rudely interrupted by the opening of the house’s great front doors. The two oaken palisades clamber inwards, followed by a rush of chill evening air and the formation of a dark portal beyond.
“Good evening fair ladies!” The first voice came from a young and roguish looking gentlemen in a brown suit with golden accents, whom Ruby reminded herself to avoid entering any deep conversation with. The others, all wearing black and particularly more sombre than the first followed suit, their once polished shoes muddied by the city, their lacklustre appearance de-shined and faded of glory. The first man stopped, taking off his hat and handing it, alongside his bronzed scarf, to the waiting and silent Lilith. She had appeared almost undetected and stole the accessories of all their guests away to an unseen cloakroom. Minus a few coins, Ruby chuckled to herself.
“Such stone faced warmth from you all, are you not pleased to see the hunters turn with their capitulated prey?” Ruby gritted her teeth with sheer revulsion, “we have spent days and hours for you ladies in this brigadier zoo!” A priestly looking fellow, named Cardinal Creed, a stern name for a stern man patted the younger and loud one on his shoulder. He commented on the nature of the court and how they were hoping he above all would’ve fallen in their adventures, a casualty of misspent love as much as a well placed native spear.
Undeterred by his downsized reputation, Leopold took off his hat and ruffled his hair in a way that suggested vanity. They all found themselves disrobed and stood beneath the chandelier, welcoming the warmth by way of rubbing hands and breathing fire up their sleeves. Ruby thought ill of Leopold, but she was most glad to see Cardinal Creed and Jeremiah, the more eligible of the aforementioned bachelors. Not for any other reason than the company they kept, and a mutual enjoyment of the theatrical arts. She made whispered comment to Lady Gregory about seating arrangements in hopes she’d find herself sat next to more desirable company. She doubted she’d be heard, but accordance’s were paid to tradition and that would take her far.
“It is a pleasure to see you return gentlemen, and now that you have done so, please follow us into the dining room when the bell is rung for the start of proceedings.” The gospel of Gregory cascaded over the hall and it fell into silence, except for the patter patter of simpered feet. The procession of women drifted down over the red carpet and spiralled to their left; the dining room was a small and poky yet comfortable room, like the rest of the house, situated immediately left of the dungeon like kitchen door. Tall barricades of ivory etched oak marked it’s location, both swung open in preparation for their arrival.
Miss Delacrouix glanced over the ornaments on the fireplace’s ancient mantle almost as soon as she entered, they were gauche, kitsch, and of terrible omen to her. Lady Gregory’s attire held less floral patterns than that one vase, and she was often commented on at balls for being ‘the spider silk florist.’ The walls faired no better, dressed as they were in pastel pink and gold trim wallpaper, adding further to the neo-desert designs the young, fancy and tiresome youth of the yesteryears had taken to. Why make your deserts fancy, when your house can look like desert? She was too tired to frown, she let the colour glaze over and was seated by the statue-esque Mr Tonsom next to the far end of the table. So tired and distracted was she, she didn’t hear the bell ring, and the gentlemen enter behind them like wolves slavering.
Lady Gregory was already sat in the tall mahogany chair at the head of the household, where she sat in the absence of her husband. Ruby’s place to her right was one of great importance, she recalled, the innards of A Wymyn’s Eticut flying past her eyes in hazy entropy. The girl in white was sat a chair away to Ruby’s own right, and the lady in pink on her opposite side to Lady Gregory’s left. This allowed for the male guests to gather at the opposite end of the table, forming a theatrical battle line with one small and very welcomed exception. The dashing gaze of her theatre going companion sat next to her, and the smell of oak smoke and amber senses brought her to full and brim awareness.
“It is a most cautionary welcome to you all indeed, it is a pleasure to bring to you the delights of my house,” Lady Gregory waved her hand, the butler entered, as did Lilith, now wearing a somewhat more debauchee version of her earlier kitchen attire. Ruby caught her out of the corner of her eye and tried very hard to stop laughing.
“ Something the matter?” Jeremiah whispered down to her, his tall and upright back arching with condensed concern. Ruby replied hushed, that nothing was out of place, and they both returned to listening with false excitement to their host’s introductory speech.
“There will be, as is customary for a dinner of this hour and this importance in our social calendar, six courses. The first, as you will see before you shortly, is a local delicacy I am informed you will all enjoy, and one that will be a new experience to Mr. Jeremiah,” she nodded in his direction, he nodded in return, “it is a Scara Brae Trout with Mary Rose sauce, on twists of caramelised bread-” There goes my hips, Ruby sighed, “and then we shall move onto the main course, which will be beef, stoo (stew, only ooeir) and then delicacies from Corone, Akashima and beyond - before returning for my trademark desert,” and pretty much my thighs, elbows and ankles… Ruby added glumly.
Cardinal Creed took a deep draft of the starter’s aroma and popped a piece into his mouth, as was customary for the proceedings to start. A prayer would have sufficed, thought Lady Gregory, but a blessing from a religious man came so they all took to their delicately ornate cutlery and tucked in. For a brief moment, Ruby forgot where she was, the noises and lack of manners amused her - they ate like children, and as she would soon find out, talked and acted that way too.
One hour… she stretched her imagination to the task at hand. One hour until all succeeds or fails… She turned to Jeremiah, smiled, and asked him of his recent travels and swarays in back street cathedrals to the arts. “It looks to be an evening long and arduous, lighten the travail would you?”
The timepiece on the mantel chimed nine times and ten, the last ring was a delicate, almost ghostly echo of a smaller working of the clock, adding a fading resonance to it’s call. The guests paused momentarily to listen to it, interrupting their polite exchanges as it went about it’s duty. Ruby held her spoon aloft and slowly let the soup drain from it like a miniature waterfall she took great relish in making. She realised the clock had stopped and she was being stared at from all sides and tried to cover her tracks with a smile, “oh, sorry,” she settled it back into the bowel.
For almost an hour they’d waded through three courses, and had arrived at the somewhat lighter fourth. The hedonistic array of sensory treats had sedated Ruby’s tongue to the point where everything now tastes like the garlic pate from the first main course. She had resorted to eating very slowly, to not show too much disdain, and left small portions on the side of her plate; enough to leave her some room to breathe beneath her corset, but enough to not cause offence. As the evening went on, the whine flowed and Jeremiah’s tongue loosened. He’d transgressed beyond the boundaries of politely discussing the stage into realms of midnight sonatas and scantily clad women performing forbidden scenes from plays she knew very well; or so she thought.
“Oh?” She sipped from the spoon again, “that scene is part of the original manuscript?” Her eyebrow raised as the spoon tipped, and fell as she returned it to the thankfully empty china bowel. “I would’ve known I’m sure, we hold many copies of Bespo’s work.” Jeremiah quaffed at the thought, took more wine from his delicate crystal glass and informed Ruby that even the first editions were second editions to the original scribbling from man’s hand itself. “You-y-you have such a thing?”
He’s lying…trying to impress, he must be.
“Oh, but of course my dearest Miss Delacrouix! I discovered such a treasure in my recent foray to Radasanth and subsequently Underwood. There was a man there, most pompous in his ways, but gentle of heart-” she enquired after this man’s name. “I believe he said his name was Lysander, it was three weeks ago almost to the day - he spoke of a young accomplice who’d delivered the manuscript to him from a height of lofty generosity,” That’s three things I owe Duffy a kick in the crown jewels for…
Lady Gregory knocked the edge of her empty glass and Tonsom appeared to refill it. All conversation stopped as they watched, it was like a declaration had been called; the lady of the house wishes to speak. She opened her purse lips and croaked, “I would like to ask that we take a brief respite between this course and the delicate censurer abjuration that will be the Anson Sponges…” she looked at Ruby and Ruby looked back at her, with dread in her eyes. “Would Miss Ruby perhaps sing, in that solemn yet sprightly voice I hear so much about in our circle?”
No, you battered old crone… “Why-” she pressed outstretched fingers innocently onto her chest and played with Wainright’s Heart, “it would be a most enduring honour!” Her acting carried her fake smile into exuberant melancholy, and she made to stand. “I would request a brief respite of my own Lady Gregory, to clear my throat and catch some air before singing - doing so immediately after savouring this delightfully-” dross “cuisine would cause me to pass through the doors most ill.” Lady Gregory nodded, and as she stood to leave the room the gentlemen all stood to attention. Life had this jovial little way of throwing things at you that got in your way when all you wanted was an easy trip to the vault…as Ruby appeared out in the hall once more, which was brighter through candle light and the above glow of the Lightsworn Orb, but darker at the edges and more foreboding, Lilith appeared by her side.
“Mam?” She shut the door to the dining room with the fake show of custom drifting in, making out that she was attending to the departing lady's immediate needs. With the door shut and secrecy on their side, Lilith immediately slipped back into her common drawl, “what in the blazes, you’re late Ruby!” She got a devilish look in return and curbed her tongue. “What went wrong?”
Ruby took Lilith’s arm and pulled her out into the hall and stopped by the circular mural on the floor. “I have to return shortly to sing for the gluttons of our fair house…that does not give us adequate time to solve this blasted riddle and find out where the orb is hidden…” Lilith expressed her shock, with words too rude even for midnight bars. “Exactly my sentiments, so I shall make a start and then return to be the evening’s entertainment," Ruby said with a sudden sternness and drive to succeed in her voice.
1837
“Very well. From the sounds of it we need to cast more light on the mural, if the inscription in the upper bedroom is anything to go by.” She took to one side and stood by a small dresser, removing the obscure and termite like lamp that had an inhuman but bright yellow glow. “You’ll be amazed what foreign trinkets Jeremiah brings back from his travels. I’ve no idea what drives him to keep trying to impress Lady Gregory - does he now know that her daughter is already wed?”
Ruby smiled and informed her endearing friend that it was she he was trying to impress, and took the lamp herself. “Very well, let us make a start…” She struggled to remember the words of the first riddle, and put her mind to work; each thought distracted by garlic, song selection, and delicate sensibilities. “I recall the light part, so,” she held the lantern up and the words at the centre of the grey marble circle glowed with an inner fire. It didn’t help them become any clearer.
Lilith walked around and knelt with her back to the front door and looked at the inscription; she read it aloud.
The light shall be cast on ancient shores,
In such light the moon’s glow will fall
Such tumultuous descent will be brought about fairly,
So softly, by the siren’s song.
“You could be the siren?” Lilith offered up, it made a sort of sense, given Ruby’s talents. Ruby nodded in response. “Well, get back in there and try a Sonata of some description, you removed the fire from the festival and made the lights dance as if possessed…perhaps if you try and drain the orb of it’s light, it will fall off?”
Not just a pretty face are you… Ruby smiled. “Yes…That is exactly what I’ll do - good thinking!” She turned on her heel and approached the dining room door once more. Each step she cleared her throat, picked at her teeth and hunched up her corset so that her lungs were a little less constrained. She would be the entertainment alright, but she had to be careful. One wrong note and she’d drain the whole house!
Tonsom, as if by magic, pulled the doors open and the paunch scene of social exquisiteness filled Ruby’s gaze once more. The first note drifted out like an operatic swansong.
Notes flew through the air like discordant remedies to the chaos of life.
On her toes, back arched and radiant, Ruby sung.
No vocals touched the earth. Instead, a melody of vocal assonance drifted out and turned into the very fabric of the house; resilient bricks of literature. With crescendo the verse volleyed into a choral rapture, and the gathered guests at the table listened with eyes ablaze with passion and a heartfelt sense of wonderment.
In this instance, I am alive.
You give me the same tune
You sing me the same song
And I lie beside you
All night long
In between each verse the careful assumption of magical power was attended to. Ruby channelled the powerful waves of inner light she felt as strong as the day towards the hallway. She reached out with the visualised stream of energy and tried to touch only the orb, and nothing more.
And though the words you speak
I am yet to learn
As do thigh I understand where you belong
Caus’ I’ve been running away
Most of the days
Although I’m finding my way
In your valleys I will stay
And through every frontier the wind in the sails
Will keep me coming back to your tales
The quaint folk melody and the acoustic vocals carried well in the small dining room. Her vocals were being enjoyed she gathered, from the sea of smiles that returned her voice. Lady Gregory silently wished for something a little more operatic, but struggled to find the link in her mind that would lead Ruby to know of such finery.
A fe gannar fi gan
Cei ysgwyd y gan
A boredom I ymi
Tarror’r wawr
A fey deall r’un gaer
Mae dy ysgwyd yn glir
Fe Gymru di yw catrefi nawr.
Out in the hall Lilith stood with her hands behind her back, listening to the notes reach her ears and smiling. It was an old folk song she knew all too well, one Ruby knew far too competently. She sung it as if she were the very dame who’d written it, centuries ago. She looked up purposefully at the chandelier, eyeing the orb for any signs of activity. Part of her wanted the solution to be this simple, but with ancient warlocks, you just couldn’t be sure.
And I’ve been running away
Most of my days
In your valleys I will stay
And through every frontier
The wind in my sails
Will keep me coming back.
And when you go I will hear you
From miles on high away
When you go
I will hear you…
Ruby slipped from common to the tongue of bards themselves without a flutter of an eyelid or a rasp of her vocal chords. It came out deep and tribal. "Harmony be damned!" Duffy would've said. She sung it guttural and with passion, rising higher and higher on the wings of performance.
A fe gannar fi gan
Cei ysgwyd y gan
A boredom I ymi
Tarror’r wawr
A fey deall r’un gaer
Mae dy ysgwyd yn glir
Fe Gymru di yw catrefi nawr.
It happened slowly, the magic. Other wizards and bards relied on spectacle, but in her short awakening Ruby’s song had only conjured sleight of hand. A tendril of light drifted out with the end of the verse, an invisible line of light that was unseen to all except the tainted. Magic had a way of being unseen to those who did not trust it. Through the door it went, unhindered by material artefacts and realtor trinkets. Lilith gasped, but at the same time stepped away from the mural in case she got caught in the crossfire.
When you sing I can hear you from miles away
When you sing
I want to be with you again
Ruby felt the passion well in her heart and pushed it up with a note that could shatter glass. She cut it short, and let the echo of her voice ring around the room. Dropping down to a low pitch she began to build up the last chorus and half whispered it. She felt alive, more so than she ever did, and all the while the power in her grew to a fever pitch, to a lifelong matinee.
Caus’ I’ve been running away
Most of the days
Although I’m finding my way
In your valleys I will stay...
The light stream flowed up and touched the Lightsworn Orb.
It shattered.
The dining hall grew dark. Lilith gasped, the silence that followed broken only by the sound of falling glass.
And through every frontier the wind in the sails
Will keep me coming back to your tales
Adre nol
Will keep me coming back to your tales
The last note faded away and Ruby slumped. Content with her performance she basked in the applause. Good lord! She saw the crack in the mirror above the fireplace too late to give any warning and then there was only a sudden blackness. A gust of wind touched candle and flame, harlequins of shadow covered window crack and harbour dawn, then nothing.
Darkness.
A twilight bound in song. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4iY2W-wFk0&feature=related)
Lilith was a girl more Scara Brae than Scara Brae knew it could be. Hard, endearing, rough like diamond and smooth as silk; a mover and a shaker before her time. If that time had been now, she would be properly prepared, unnerved and distraught to meet whatever her maker had in store. She was cold, tired and haphazardly guessing at the outcome of the shadow. One moment she’d been basking in the melody of Ruby’s song and the next there was nothingness, complete and utter eclipse of life.
Her body and limbs and breathe could all be heard and felt, her heart pumped menacingly loud in the silence of the flattening hour. Time compressed as the darkness ensued, seemingly longer that it felt, but not passing at all. “H-” she made to speak but cut it short for a pause, “ello?” She waited some more. “Hello?” With an unnerving hum a single symbol appeared in the abyss. It sparkled with a gentle blue light, like a will-o-wisp over marshes foul. Such was the strength of the shadow that no reflection ricocheted from any surface, and no depth or sense was given from the light. In the gloom, Lilith’s eyes widened with a curiosity that got more than cats killed. A?
Three more letters joined their brother in linguistics, and then three more, forming a simple sentence in the air like god’s portent to his prophet. It’s only reader mouthed the words over and over and over some more, stunned by the obscure riddle it rung. “Not above, but below, hideth time.” Gears started to grind the moment it finally stuck, and ground to a halt very quickly. It didn’t take like for the outcome to dawn on the young maid, especially as the darkness gave way to dim twilight. The letters faded and vanished from view with a delicate chime.
Light from the lantern returned first. Like a firefly awakening from it’s slumber it grew back to it’s radiance, climbing from it’s personal nightmare into a cascading glow. The candles on the table by the door, and the lanterns on the landing whispered to life, as if an unseen match had taken to them all simultaneously. Normality ensued, and still Lilith mouthed the words over and over with a stony face and statue-esque appeared enamelled on her.
Eating away at her sub-conscious self was the niggling doubt she’d always feared. Why didn’t you become a waitress? A gardener? A milkmaid? A whore? They all were respectable positions to hold in society, or at least they were in the society she normally kept. The moment she’d picked up that blasted white envelope with the winged motif she’d become this enigma of the immoral world, too clever and outspoken for the upper echelons, too casual and idle for the lower. Her mother’s words the day she was cast out of the family started to haunt her, she had no desire to ‘come back on her hands and knees when you’ve learnt your lesson.’ She would stick this one out, even if it burnt her brain out trying to solve.
“Not above, but below, hideth time.” She said it again but loudly, clearly and with moral conviction you could butter and slice. Nothing rang any bells, not even a faint tinkle of a glockenspiel.
Not above…
She assumed this meant not above another time piece, or perhaps above the orb…but that was now a thousand dream bound fragments. Could it mean above a clock, or something more obscure?
Nor below…
Lilith looked down at the mural beneath her feet. It was a hard floor, on a hard street, full of hard rocks. There was nothing bel-
Her thoughts turned to a long and terrified scream which started loudly and then faded. She tumbled like a stone into a well, then silence once more. The final thoughts rang in her mind, Should’ve listened to your mother. The mural had rather inconveniently crumbled, just like that! No crack, no chime, no odious warning - it simply gave way like the seal to ancient tomb.
In the dining room the terrified guests, until now sat in silence for fear of reprisal all convened there questions. The hurried pushing and shoving that brought them all out into the hall to see what had happened was most undignified. Ruby remained for a moment to allow the herd of bulls to stampede without her and then followed graciously. There was only one woman in the house not present in the dining room so logically she arrived at the conclusion that the scream had come from Lilith, and no doubt was caused by the song.
The moments following the darkness were some of the most difficult and arduous she’d ever encountered. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. No whelp of fear nor scream of abject terror permeated the night. Each of the guests no doubt fell into constant remunerations of survival and worry, contemplating if they were the only one who saw nothing, or if they were the only left in the room at all. Gifted with hindsight, Ruby had simply waited for the effects of the spell song to wear off, as they usually did once she stopped utterances of falsetto ringing or cut the chorus short. Lady Gregory was too pale and awash to speak, so Jeremiah had taken the reigns and enquired after everyone’s good health.
What puzzled them all more so, was not from whom the scream had come from, but where the progenitor was now? Hasty footfalls scuttled around the hallway, peered briefly into the kitchen and swooped up the stairs like a tawny owl’s death knell, all to no avail. Ruby looked down at the floor with the sort of casual niggle that got a school boy into trouble and then sighed. Of course she’d fallen through the bloody floor!
Like on the stage, life was full of pitfalls, full of little accents that made or broke a performance. Not even Ruby had thought metaphors could become so frequently… ‘real.’ “Jeremiah! Cardinal! Florence! Lady Gregory!” She called out the names of the people she could remember and peered over the edge of the dusty portal to an unknown beyond. The faint hint of thermal movement rushed past her like a feather’s grace. “She is here!" She hesitated. "Down there rather, come quick!”
Peering over the edge of her fan, the confusion and worry finally sedated, Ruby found a familiar scene. The lights were all blazing brightly, the front door was ajar, and the butler was still serving drinks to worried onlookers. Cardinal Creed spouted liturgies of safety, the woman in white, and the woman in pink both stood by Lady Gregory’s side, saddling her authority. Only Jeremiah and Leopold were truly making any attempt at saving Lilith, she doubted her surprise for a moment, but was glad to see even a garish excuse for manhood like Leopold Harmony could dredge passion from his blackened heart.
Lady Gregory stepped away from the cavernous hole in her once fine floor and resigned herself to an observational role, adding a slight commentary to each action and motion and supposed mistake. None of the other guests appreciated it, but none had the heart and courage to put her in her place. Times and such places had their proper customs, and downsizing the host in her own home was never on any agenda. “Lilith!” Jeremiah cried, almost screaming down, he squinted as he did so, trying to get a sense of what lay in the room at the bottom of the pit.
Scant little memories returned to the fore of Ruby’s mind, hints and glimpses of past lives, fleetingly and languorously running in paradoxical motion. Her mannerisms failed her, deluded into thinking all was well by the complexity of her mind. Lilith stirred deep down in the dark, but she did not respond to their calls. Then, through the waves of paranoia and worry, through the deluge of loss, the familiar call of The Aria sprung a leak in her trouble. It sung away the clouds, the headache, the fear, replacing it instead with a gentle melodic amble. Naturally she tucked her fan into the hem of her dress and pushed the men aside. “Lilith! I be ‘earin’ ya down there crying, don’t make me whip out a song and crush the caverns down on ya!”
The distant shadow stirred, illuminated by whatever strong and golden glow the room beyond gave life to. The echo of grumbles and moans drifted up, relieving Ruby above all of her tense nerves. She was still alive… “Ruby,” Lady Gregory began, somewhat shocked by the outcry. It was not customary, regardless of one’s origins to speak in such slanderously common tongue, not in front of her, not in front of the Cardinal. “What is the meaning of this?”
With a flick of her hair and a straightening of the long plume placed on her brow, Delacrouix darted her host a glare to end all glares. This was not the time to be discussing formalities, “Forgive me, Lady Gregory, but a bond exists between myself and Lilith that transcends all due accord. I will not stand back and simply watch her struggle,” she paused for thought. “Since none of you will do anything to help her, it shall fall to me no doubt to rescue her.” She pulled on her sleeves and took the outer layer off, along with the red throw and outer layer of her dress. Something Jeremiah was red to see.
“Leopold, fetch a rope from the garden, there is one in the shed that the gardener uses,” the male authoritarian in Jeremiah finally came to fruition, his panic and sweat fading away. Ruby expressed her thanks with a polite thank you and a nod. “It is my pleasure, together we shall save the maid, and find out the meaning of this secret seclusion, if Lady Gregory will not tell us what this hole is on her own due accord!” He continued.
Her silence foretold that she would not.
The grandfather clock chimed in the hall.
Ding.
Dong.
Ding.
Dong.
In the room below, something stirred.
Ding.
Dong.
Ding.
Dong.
The Aria changed. It’s landscape of sound turned from melody to words, spoken in a language as old as time; Tantalus whispered a skein of the future, replayed over and over through the will of the poem that had given birth to the shadows below.
Ding.
Dong.
Ding.
Dong.
Midnight came. The Aria sung an ancient tale.
How did we arrive, how did we convalesce?
Fortune has abandoned us now we are here,
Left to the son of the red fanged prophet,
Abandoned to fend for ourselves, alone
with the Howling…
the Howling comes.
We ask questions of our intent, our chances,
How can we survive the night watchman’s wrath?
Crawling through the mud, the reckoning wind,
Here it comes like a behemoth sour, alone
with the Howling…
the Howling comes…
Why have we been set upon by Evil’s masque?
Run children, run father, run mother, run son!
Our maker’s beast comes hard through the shadows,
Help us lord, save us from the ravening claws!
The Howling comes…
For us it comes…
In the grand middle-class square outside of Lady Gregory’s Mansion, surrounded by other such mansions and immaculate lawns there is a great marquee. Such a tent of light blue hue has a wooden wall protecting the insides from view, and it is here that the Tantalum have set up a stage to perform a play for the nobleman Faltoy Numarr, events foreshadowed in ‘How Oddly We Meet.’ It is dark, about 11:38pm, the distant sound of Ruby’s song has faded from the air and Duffy and Clement await their part to play in the grand act unfolding moments away. Ruby is unaware that Duffy has returned from Radasanth the day before, as she's been in the circle of nobility and occupied with establishing the pieces of the puzzle. She assumes him to be still travelling.
Tic.
Tac.
Toe.
The blow to the chest hurt, and it hurt hard. The thief flew through the air backwards in a waltzing ball of bellowing material and soon to be dusty ego. It crashed into the heavy wooden wall, lattice splintered, paper divided ripped, calamity ensued. Never in all his life had Duffy seen such fancy footwork, never in any lives thereafter would he see such dextrous and hasty dagger work, she’s possessed, she must be!
He picked himself up and investigated his immanent surroundings, making out shapes in the encroaching darkness of the near twilight. There were small trees, like children, dancing on an immaculate lawn and to his left a gently babbling stream of ornamental arrangement and anal positioning. This was atypical of Akashiman design, they’d been reheasring two days and already he wanted to move the odd plant pot, rough up the odd lawn. It was too organised, too neat, too hierarchal. I hate it!
Time wasn’t on his side to address the culture of other lands, the whirl of a shuriken brought that dream to a close. It whistled past his ear like a whirligig, spinning and spinning and spinning and…
Thud.
It dug into the hefty posts that formed the archway of the garden gates behind him, striking a silver trail of fear through the air. Duffy considered his options, and went with the first one. Running forwards and leaping up into the cool cream and red wood entrance room, he brought his dagger up quickly enough to block the python’s strike that followed.
Clang!
Steel rang out through the silent night, broken further by the crimson clad female’s hoarse and calculating tone. “Stubborn, futile. Arrangement. Paid, end. Life. Cut - short.” With a surge of strength he felt his parry give way and was knocked back, recovering from the follow up thrust only with a deft leap and spiralling block. She was quick, inhumanly so.
“What do you wan’ with me?” A question followed only by the potter patter of feet changing stance and twin blades on both sides exchanging pleasantries. His eyes blurred with the motions, his adrenaline pumped around his veins just to keep up and stay ahead enough to not lose his head. Almost certainly at some point, the woman’s tanto knicked his cheek and he spin around as a reflex, a pain twinge, a scream without words. “I’m not who you think I-” he didn’t get time to proclaim his alleged innocence, the roundhouse kick from her satin wrapped foot arced up and knocked him sideways to the floor.
Bang!
The ninja froze. Duffy froze, although in that respect he didn’t have much choice. “Did you hear that?” The Akashiman accent and cold killer façade slipped away, replaced instead by a very familiar accent of Scara Brae origins. A muffled groan came from the semi-conscious Duffy in response. “Oh,” she began, helping him up with a delicate pull of his wrist and a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“There was no need to kick me so hard!” He rubbed his cheek, now both red and bloodied with impact and strike. The blushing didn’t help matters. “Now why did you st-” she shhhd him with a finger to his lips. “Hmmm, mmm- mmmmhhhh?” They both fell to silence and took in the jasmine scent and dust of a spring evening through nostrils instead. Once more, Duffy didn’t have much choice in the matter.
Without pause for thought she took off the red cowl and let her hair hang lose, free of the pins which held it back to allow for the costume to not appear lumpy or ill fitting. Duffy admired her face from behind his gag, the sort of look that said a thousand words, but really only meant one - bitch! Clement darted a glance over to the door and skipped over with transparent steps that a ghost would have a hard time mimicking. The troupe master on the other hand shuffled and scurried and dragged his feet. “This had better be good…” His disgruntled statement came less from being beaten too harshly and more from their rehearsal being interrupted; it’d no doubt be the possums again, always the bloody possums.
The troupe’s cunning set designer pulled the door to the makeshift stage they’d constructed in the centre of the noble district and peered through the thin crack she allowed to form at the shadows beyond. The air was colder outside of the thin walls, and the owls and the moonlight stirred an aura of emptiness in perfect harmony. She shut it again, shaking.
“There is definitely something out there, or someone!” The bright and amply sprung Clement wasn’t one to be scared often, and that genuine frown on her face, the grimace of loathing told Duffy all he needed to know about the truth of the matter. He pulled the door open himself and looked out into the streets beyond. He saw a shadow flit in the distance, he shut the door, he shivered, they shivered. Damnit.
“I’ll go, you be ‘avin’ yourself away and finding someone more appropriate, Declan should be out back ‘avin’ a nap -” he slipped halfway through the gently opened door, “hurry!” It shut. He was gone.
Like a midnight flash of anti-light he scurried across the cobblestones and embraced the chill that absorbed upwards through his ‘costume.’ He was essentially wearing a black version of Clement’s crimson attire, only his usual equipment was laced over it and his scarf and belts too; he was ‘Lo Shat, the mad ninja…if only he’d paid more attention to children’s artistry and legends as a child himself. It was an Akashiman invention, as far as he could tell, but they weren’t in Akashima now, and their own plays would be lost in translation on the baying crowds of Scara Brae’s fortunate citizens. Move with the times! That’s what Ruby said, and he was bloody well moving as fast as time allowed now.
“Hey!”
“Jude!” (Common slang for stranger).
“Get away from there!” Duffy’s voice was ample loud enough to reach the shadow in front of the grand house on the side of the square, and probably to be heard in several streets beyond that too. Panting and wheezing, the icy night burnt his throat and stuffed pine cones up his nostrils, just about the same time the stranger would notice.
What’re you doin’, Duffy?
This would end in tragedy, heartache, or maybe just light neuralgia. The shadow turned, it’s long dank hair and humanoid form loomed and cried, shrieking with pure abandon for secrecy. The dread that eased from it’s form tingled down Duffy’s spine and made the night draw closer in, it’s tendrils and claws reaching out to grab him through the moonlit sky.
He cried back.
“LUCIAN!”
The room Lilith now found herself in was one of convex length and little height. She guessed that it was a tomb or archive of some description, a place to hide away the greater secrets of the Gregory household, beyond that, she had no clue. As her eyes pealed open, the light from above, a simple pimple in the roof brought her round properly and suddenly. The aura from all around her appeared to come from rows and rows of candles, settled against what appeared to be walls of pure gold.
“Where am I?” She croaked, her voice falling on death ears and rotting plaster. “What-” she pushed herself up into a seated position, her bones still able to move thanks in no small part to the large pile of crimson cushions. “What is this place?” Part of her wondered why she bothered speaking at all, the commotion from above gave the level of panic and frantic movement away.
She resigned herself to her investigation once more, knowing rescue would come, but not when. The smell in the air was not unfamiliar, sharing the same qualities as most of the house above; it was damp, musky, hedonistic. Such a room was only heard of in the most fantastical of plays and legends, and never had such rooms been disturbed in ‘a many great centuries’ or ‘aeons of time.’ Odd, she began, squinting to try and make her eyes focus on the far end of the chamber.
The Orb!
Nothing else filled the room except for the small altar at the far end of the gallery. If she had paid attention, Lilith would’ve noticed that the hole above was the centre of the house and that the end of the gallery was beneath it. It stretched north by roughly a hundred yards in empty silence. The altar was a simple slab of granite, roughly shoulder height, with three steps leading up to it, atop which sat a glowing sphere of dark blue energy and blackened space. It’s beauty enhanced by the empty slice in the earth, it’s walls covered in golden plinths and slabs. Even Lilith could hear the ancient secrets whispered here, before the house that sealed it was even built.
“Ruby!” She shouted, cupping her hands over her mouth to project her voice upwards in a falsetto crescendo. “Ruby!”
A moment passed, filled by the unseen freezing of the dinner guests. “Lilith?” It was Ruby’s voice. “Are you hurt?”
“No! I’m fine, it’s here! It’s really here!”
Silence.
“What is?”
“The Orb!” Lilith replied, the happiness and excitement and devilish thrill evident in her voice.
“It’s really…-” she stopped.
Darkness fell through the roof before the Orb of Attainment, and smiled.
---
Ruby heard the magic words and felt her heart skip a beat and attempt to leap clean from her chest. It was so easy, too easy…but it was here, after months of searching the firmament, they’d found it. “Can you reach it?” She added, lying down on her stomach and overhanging the pit.
The gold glow from below ceased to be.
“Lilith?”
Fear.
“Lil-ITH?!”
Desperation.
“LILITH!”
Realisation.
The poem was Lucian's, how could she have been so stupid? How could she have been so naive? But Lucian was dead...forgotten, a memory undying in all their hearts. What had he written the poem for...some beast foul contained in the city depths? Metaphorical or not, she felt the pure darkness rise from beneath the house, felt all she'd worked for and all they'd shared as sisters dwindle into nothing.
---
It had been too long, since Lucian last felt fear. Even in the shadows of the undercroft, skulking in the mire of the city he loathed so much, you couldn’t truly relish the emotions and tribulations of humanity. He spat, as if to clear his conscious of such a dirty word. The long tendrils of his cloak swirled around him, like dogs on the hunt for rabbits they clutched at the floor and altar, and dragged him down through the roof. His smile reached the human with the force of a nightmare, crushing hope and dreams and weighing down on the soul. She does not know me…
She does not feel me…
She cannot know me…
She will not know me…
“I…am…Lucian…” The morality in question faded away, the same malicious intent that pulled back his lips to reveal the long fangs he’d grown in the twilight. As the years had passed, so had Lucian’s appearance, his beauty, his inner fire. The black matter hair, long and sickly dangled from his brow as if it were close to falling away, his skin and eyes were sagging and pale, like the moon’s immortal hymn. He had passed from life into something beyond, something he should not have become.
He clicked his wrist and held it up, channelling his own emotion into the palm. “You are…too…late…” The golden aura faded, a sudden wave of black light followed, consuming all in a nothingness only magic could pierce. In the dark he reached out for the orb and clutched at it with a talon hand. For so long I have worked to release you…come to me, give me what I desire…
“LILITH!”
Lucian’s neck snapped to the left and up to glance at the hole. He did not grow afraid, he did not frown, he did not display any startled state. “Oh how ironic…how…futile…” Pushing upwards, he drifted from the floor and travelled on the edges of reality through the dense earth and gold roof, slowly rising upwards into the confines of Lady Gregory’s Private Abode.
How…ironic…indeed… He let out a long and subduing growl which fell short of audible but rumbled the mucus and dying flesh in his lungs. It had been a century since he had walked amongst the living, but he would relish his encore with every last ounce of sorrow in his hallowed veins.
HELP! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXh4EuJa2TU)
HELP! I NEED SOMEBODY,
HELP! NOT JUST ANYBODY,
HELP! YOU KNOW I NEED SOMEONE, HELP.
The tears welled up in Ruby, and flowed out controllably like diamonds in the scintillating shadows. The light went out below, and soon the light grew more weak and waned above, as if whatever lurked in the shadows was casting it’s presence further and further a field. She couldn’t help herself, in one fell swoop her emotions spoiled the calm sea of the The Aria, and whipped it up in a desperate call for a solution she could never solve on her own. Tantalus craned her neck, lifted her bosoms, drove passion and roar ruckus energy into her voice, and with it she sang like she’d never sung before.
HELP!
HELP! I NEED SOMEBODY,
HELP! NOT JUST ANYBODY,
HELP! YOU KNOW I NEED SOMEONE, HELP.
The ladies in the hallway threw her looks of morbid terror, a feeling not shared by Jeremiah and the returning Leopold, who bundled the long length of rope onto the floor at the edge of hole and stood, in abject fascination at the object his heart’s affection. Glorious…passion…fire! He thought, broken from his spellbound state only by Jeremiah’s gentle punch and physical directions, a hitch, a point, a stare told the young Leopold all he needed to do, and where to tie the rope.
WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, SO MUCH YOUNGER THAN TODAY,
I NEVER NEEDED ANYBODY'S HELP IN ANY WAY.
BUT NOW THESE DAYS ARE GONE, I'M NOT SO SELF ASSURED,
NOW I FIND I'VE CHANGED MY MIND I'VE OPENED UP THE DOORS.
As Ruby’s semi clothed form sprung passionate waves of her arms and she spiralled around the hole singing as if possessed, the rope was lowered down into the murky depths, slowly and tentatively, to give Jeremiah some indication as to when it reached the floor. Little length remained as it did so, perhaps it was just good fortune that the rope was long enough, or faith of the Cardinal whose mantra had been broken to watch the spectacle, he did not care, he prayed all the same. Standing upright he stepped away and prodded Leopold once more. “After you…” Leopold returned an expression that said, in plain terms, ‘no.’ “I was not inferring or asking, I was telling” Jeremiah replied sternly, scratching his beard and swaddling his superior position in society for a mutually beneficial and morally acceptable use.
HELP ME IF YOU CAN, I'M FEELING DOWN
AND I DO APPRECIATE YOU BEING AROUND.
HELP ME GET MY FEET BACK ON THE GROUND,
WON'T YOU PLEASE, PLEASE HELP ME.
AND NOW MY LIFE HAS CHANGED IN OH SO MANY WAYS,
MY INDEPENDENCE SEEMS TO VANISH IN THE HAZE.
BUT EV'RY NOW AND THEN I FEEL SO INSECURE,
I KNOW THAT I JUST NEED YOU LIKE I'VE NEVER DONE BEFORE.
The Aria swelled and turned and churned and burst into colour fire before Ruby’s eyes. She saw no more the great hallway, only the stormy seas of colour and vibrancy that was given life through the movement of the notes and the application of her visualised hopes. She longed for a saviour to help fight whatever was coming, to fight the Howling, to fight Lucian’s Legacy in whatever form it would take. She spun and spiralled and felt at one with the words, words she didn’t even know, and would not remember when the song was sung.
HELP ME IF YOU CAN, I'M FEELING DOWN
AND I DO APPRECIATE YOU BEING AROUND.
HELP ME GET MY FEET BACK ON THE GROUND,
WON'T YOU PLEASE, PLEASE HELP ME.
WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, SO MUCH YOUNGER THAN TODAY,
I NEVER NEEDED ANYBODY'S HELP IN ANY WAY.
BUT NOW THESE DAYS ARE GONE, I'M NOT SO SELF ASSURED,
NOW I FIND I'VE CHANGED MY MIND I'VE OPENED UP THE DOORS.
A faint hum caught the air, instilling a sudden sense of fear in even Lady Gregory’s cold mind. She hustled away the girl in white and the girl in pink, secluding themselves in the dining room, to huddle and shake in the corner amongst themselves. Cardinal Creed and Kyle, Leopold and Jeremiah remained by the hole to see the outcome of the sudden creative outburst, slowly they too became aware that the light was growing darker from the floor up. Kyle, who had said very little until then, too ashamed to ask or to mention anything piped up, “I- forgive me, sir, Cardinal, I must break my vow of silence to save a life, I fear god or gods can redeem my soul in doing so.”
The stern religious man, hiding behind his moustache nodded, although he did so from behind a wall of deep repulsion. Kyle continued, “the shadows…surely they tell of something coming, some daemon or shadow that wishes us harm?” Cardinal Creed nodded, Jeremiah simply stared blankly at the wirey haired youth. “Should we not pray, should we not chastise our fear with the symbols of our lord and prepare out defence?” He pulled out some chalk and shrugged. The Cardinal agreed with him and they moved to the edge fo the hole to make a simple circle become something with which to shield them all. What good is that? Jeremiah wondered, the sheer sense of bewilderment and scale of what had happened hit him. He was helpless.
HELP ME IF YOU CAN, I'M FEELING DOWN
AND I DO APPRECIATE YOU BEING ROUND.
HELP ME, GET MY FEET BACK ON THE GROUND,
WON'T YOU PLEASE,
PLEASE HELP ME,
HELP ME,
HELP ME, OH.
Lyrics stopped. The Aria died down and became a faint ocean once more, calm and buoyant and plainly blue. Exasperated by the energy put into the performance, Ruby slouched to her knees, panting and sweating and her nostrils and mouth gorging on whatever breath she could take. Gone was the pine freshness and stale air, replaced with a hint of irony, death, and coal…soot…sulphur…silence.
The humming grew louder.
“It’s here…” her panting slowed, she looked up. “The Howling is here…”
They all turned to look over their shoulders, pausing mid scribble or stare or restoration.
“The Howling is here!” She pointed, and screamed at something floating before the great oaken doors of the mansion.
The ghostly remnants of Duffy’s former master turned slowly, and began to drop down into the floor with a rush of humming and radiance. The thief ran at the fastest pace he could muster, but the flash of his dagger cut through nothing more than the midnight air. Down went the wraith, down into the shadows of the under city once again. The sound of scamp cursing broke the silence, and then nothing moved or spoke.
A light flickered on across the square, and then another, and another, and another. People twitched at the curtains in their nightgowns, eager as ever nobles were to discern the nature of the unruly disturbance. The Akashiman construct at the centre of the great expanse shone and glowed with a mysterious stillness, but they could not see he nor Lucian, black as midnight and darker still as they both were, and both would be. Dragging his foot over the gravel on the pavement, the troupe master’s mind raced around in petulant little circles, looking for a meaning, looking for an answer to the riddle that had been sprung up before him, like a sudden reed in the bountiful swamp. He stood for several minutes, with nothing but a gentle breeze for company.
Lilith! The distant sound of screams erupted from the mansion, and he ran with silent footfalls up the lawn, leaping over the fence with a quick kick up, and laid flat against the frame of the doorway; ear against the hollow panel to listen. Howling! He could only make out fragmented words from several voices, as panic took over and drove the people inside to terror. Connecting Lucian’s appearance to the disruption to the acquisition attempt, Duffy took a few steps back and looked for an open window, a spent latch, anyway he could find to sneak in. It took him a few moments, but a run up and pole-vault to the 1st floor balcony gave it’s bounty of an ajar bedroom sill, it’s white cotton curtains flapping out in the cold night air.
In he went, dressed for the part but vomit sprawling up his throat with the apprehension of meeting Lucian in the flesh, outside of his comfort zone…passing through the scantily decorated guest room and out onto the far left of the upper balcony, the voices so faint from the outside became ever the more clear, fear bound and increased in pitch. He edged round the corner, and sunk low, peering through the balcony railing at the scene that was unfolding below.
“Who are you?” Cardinal Creed’s voice, although unknown to the thief boomed through the hall like a pastor’s righteous sermon. “What are you?” half obscured by the chandelier the man in a long black dinner robe waved his arms frantically, drawing a vigil of invisible and useless power in the air. Another, younger, more foolish man with floppy hair was stooped around a hole in the ground, a chalk touching the pavement but not moving. Something had interrupted their hastily prepared defence…
Downwards…beneath the house…he’s here for the Orb! Duffy crept closer and closer to the stairs, using the commotion below as a screen for his advance. With each spider like limb his heart pounded in his chest, trying to break free from it’s mortal cage with heavy hammer blows. All sense of fun was drained from his soul, in the darkness, The Aria was silent, as if the sentience held within the deities’ magic was waning, succumbing to the malice that hung in the air, dripping like poison from Lucian’s long robes of pure night. Ruby’s voice was familiar to him, speaking in questionable tone in between the Cardinal’s riling attempts at discerning the creature’s identity. In the space of a moment, Duffy approached the top of the stairs and stood up silently, carefully monitoring every movement to ensure he got the best possible jump on his nemesis. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew Lucian was expecting him, the smile he’d shot his ancestor across the square said all that was to come would be part of their mutual destinies.
Lucian’s voice rose above the others at last, his ascent through the floor had cracked the tiles and the tail ends of his attire anchored him hovering in the air, grasping at the dark recesses at the corner of the rooms. Suspended like a rag doll, he cracked his neck from beneath a rotting cowl and spat air like the fall of the gallows. “I…am…no-one…I…am…everyone…I…am…Lucian.” Ruby, now on her knees besides Leopold and distraught with tears screamed at the darkness.
“You are not Lucian, Lucian is dead!” Running her hand through her hair to pluck it from her sweaty brow, she forgot what composure was, forgot what class and privilege were, forget everything except for the slump of emotion that washed over her as The Aria faded, and the song she’d sung for a hero fell to deaf ears. She was a woman without hope.
“If…I…am…dead…then…answer…me…this ” His talon fell to point at the hole in the floor of the mansion, declaring it a site of sudden importance. “How is it that you know where my soul stone lies? Where…my…memories…reside!” The humming grew louder, louder, and louder still, until it gave the impression that the room was swarming with locusts, tearing at Jeremiah’s sanity, and causing the Cardinal to take imagined swipes at the flickering darkness. Duffy riled his wits about him, pulled the cowl of his costume up and tight across his face, and stepped down onto the first step of the red carpeted grandeur.
“Because she does not know what the Orb truly is,” all the heads turns and looked up. The jet black ninja was instantly familiar to Ruby, but only on merit of having read Akashiman fairytales to the children of the troupe by candlelit bedsides and warm embracing firesides. Had she sprung a hero from the pages, had a hero come? “You should not have come here, Lucian, you should not have broken your word.” She stared blankly, the voice stirring a familiar feeling inside of her, as if she knew it well.
Insanity given voice ripped through the building, a great screech of unevenly wrought proportions tore at everyone’s ears. The ladies screamed in fear, the men bowed to their knees, Duffy winced but recognised it, a familiar lament of dread - he’d angered the darkness, but he would not stand to suffer Lucian’s betrayal. “I knew…you…would…come…” The low voice said, “I…left…signs…”
Signs…
Signs…
Signs! “Of course, I can see that now. It was you who guided my speech the day I left as well. I remember feeling odd, as if you'd said the very same, only a century ago...the day you left, the day you abandoned God!” Duffy began placing the pieces of the obscure jigsaw finally into place. The dreams that lead him to Radasanth, to Lorenor’s side, and the rumours of the Orb’s true resting place which just fell onto his lap as if by pure chance. Meticulous calculations leading him to a trap. He raised an eyebrow and smiled. Ruby screamed up at the stranger, asking him for a name, a face, a hint of allegiance. His movements to pull back the cowl snapped to a pause as one of the folding tendrils of Lucian’s garb screamed forwards.
Fwoop!
Fwoop!
Landing on the top stair with a double back flip the outstretched arm of the ninja collided with the grasping claw of ethereal fabric. The pain washed over the thief instantly, his fingers flexing with the fist that formed out of nothing. Lucian’s dark form pulsated and pushed his will along the long kite of cloth. Duffy braced, but pushed back with equal force. “My name,” he began, letting the cloth overpower him and spinning on the force at the same time. “Is Duffy!”
The Dagger flashed up from his left boot, down from his left arc and tore through the abyssal dagger of Lucian’s attire with a snick, he laughed, more through relief than celebration. Still half crouched to one side he pulled back the hood and let his ruffled hair flop all over, weapon up behind him and free hand on the floor, fingers outstretched like an arachnid. Dramatic flair once more filled the air, for a moment, The Aria sung through the night, then died. The remnant of material drifted down the stairs like ash in the winds of the Windlacer mountains, it came to a standstill on the last step like a funeral shroud.
Her vision clouded by the streak of darkness, Ruby’s face lit up when it repealed itself into it’s owner, a hint of breaking reality left in it’s wake, dark crystals forming with purple haze where corruption had touched the air. Half crying, half laughing, she stood up and started to dance. Happiness washed over her as she realised her song had worked. Fate had little ironic gestures like that, making the real seem surreal, the unknown knowable. Duffy shot her a look of confused wonderment and in between her proclamations of ‘it worked! It worked!’ he wondered for her sanity. The darkness did evil things to the mind.
Humming turned to screeching, locusts to bats, Lucian’s suspended form pulsated again, and again, and again. “The Orb…is…mine!” From beneath the mouldy green leather and fraying robes a blue sphere appeared, swirling with an inner gold light and swarming with a darkness that eclipsed even Lucian’s blackened heart. The humming stopped, Lucian’s malice faded, and the song returned to Duffy.
He stepped down onto the top step, and then down another, and another, a slow advance like a cat. With each motion of advance he tore at the outer layer of the Akashiman cotton and settled the dagger in his hand into the red cotton obi around his waist. “I had hoped, given the times we live in that you would not betray me. I had hoped,” from his tone it was clear the orator in him had broken free, the desperation and quiver on his tongue slipped out more revelations than his words could muster - he was scared, horrified, beyond redemption. “I had hoped to be able to end your tyranny over Tantalus before you regained the power to walk amongst us, to free yourself of your own chains to take back the remnants of your past life.”
1838
Waving Ruby and Jeremiah and Kyle and the Cardinal to the outskirts of the room Duffy at last arrived at the bottom of the stairs, his knees shaking ever so slightly, his heart broken clear of his ribs. It poured out like a countering wave of hope, pushing and teasing Lucian’s succumbing misery with little prangs of light. “But if we must fight, and I must defend my rights to hear the troupe’s choral melody lighten my day, then so be it -” he cocked a smile, turned his right foot to one side and sprinted across the tiles.
The Orb in Lucian's hands shattered as he pressed against it, the array of crystalline fragments tinkered across the floor like sleet on a stormy night. The dark sphere and purple haze that had clung to the clouds from his attack was also present in the aftermath of the orb's destruction. From it, a small golden sphere drifted up, before darting into Lucian's forehead. His head arced back, and for a brief moment Ruby and Duffy saw a face they had not seen, but knew so well. Youth returned fleetingly and the blonde face that looked back tore their worlds apart - he'd been there, all along, everything they'd loved, lost, hated and cared for taken by the stranger.
He had made them feel everything he had felt.
The Aria sung out loud a golden hymn, an apocalyptic rush of sound. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwHSzm1pCs0)
The darkness swarmed, the tendrils pounced, a wall of thorns swam out to greet the wasp that came to strike at the long dead fruit of the Tree of Life.
To Be Continued.
Spoils: None, will request a greater one at the end of the part two, which will roughly be the same length and be a revelatory piece about Lucian. I hope this is a fun read, sorry if it's complicated, Purple Prose might not be fashionable but it works for me...
Taskmienster
09-27-09, 02:14 PM
How The Orb Came To Pass (solo) :: I’ll be getting this for you, and I must say that even from the very beginning, I was amazed with how well you are writing. The style has changed since the last thread I judged of yours, and though it was well done, this one was much better mechanically. However, a few things I have to harp on. Your text is in colors, that aren’t regular. I am not liking that, it’s just annoying really. You also have a way of writing that, though eloquent, loses a little of it’s touch when I have to read over and over the same thing to understand what it said and what it meant.
Continuity 6
It wasn’t until much later in the thread that I finally got a bit of what was the purpose of the thread. It was almost as if you spent most of the time writing a truly amazing piece of prose in regards to action, setting, and persona… but forgot to tell me what was going on, who was in it, and what the purpose of the thread was until later when it caught up with you.
Setting 7.5
Elaborately described, well thought out, beautifully ornate, and a pacing killer. I must say that it was close to perfect, if I didn’t have to keep reading it over again and again to try and make the picture in my mind.
Pacing 4
The pacing… my goodness, it was slow. I was just dragging through pages of purple prose, overly elaborate descriptions of etiquette, dresses, drapery, and noble nonsense. Though the rest of the scores will be great, the pacing was so slow I actually re-read the same thing multiple times because I didn’t realize it was different at first. There’s a certain line you should be watching for, not too much as to cause the reader to think that they’re trying to get through part of the LotR series (which was droll and slow) and not too fast as to leave the reader wondering when they got to the last post and what happened between. Purple prose tends to veer your writing to the former instead of that happy medium between the two.
Dialogue 7.5
Again, eloquence to its peak, with truly amazingly rich and realistic speech patterns and word choice. However, I must say that when you type dialogue, it’s best not to muddle it into the paragraph again and again. It’s hard to follow when you’re reading something, and a single 3 sentence response is split three times so that you can describe the way they moved, what they did, and which way someone’s eyes went. That sort of stuff tends to make me read it, then continue with the dialogue only to not remember what was being said. So it’s almost as if I should just skip the stuff in the middle and try and follow what’s being said, then go back and read the interrupting reactions. Dialogue is best at the end, beginning, or set aside completely. In the middle is not always a bad place, and can be done correctly often, but not as frequently as it was done in this thread.
Action 6
The action befit the setting, and the writing style, however it was somewhat muddled as was explained in pacing and other portions of the judgment. All in all, it was slow, though very well done.
Persona 6.5
Like I said in the other sections, this was done really well at the expense of other points. There is a certain quality that you are looking for when you write, display the characters personalities through their actions and dialogue as well as through the narrative itself. It can be difficult with multiple NPC’s as well as your PC running around, but at the same time makes it more realistic when each person is dynamic and round. You did that well, for the most part. Sometimes I felt as if the persona of a character changed slightly, and I don’t mean the difference between real Ruby and her acting. I mean in general with some of the NPC’s. Just keep it consistent, and keep it well done, and you’re fine. You did both of those rather well.
Technique 7
Style-wise, your writing was really well done. Surprised me, to be honest, because of how different it was since the last thing you wrote. However, great writing with flowery flair doesn’t necessarily make it easy to read. Too much flowery words and you’ll lose the writer. Impressed, yes they will be, able to comprehend what was said, possibly not. Also, when you write it’s ok to put in things like “tic/toc/tic”, even separating them to provide emphasis, but it felt like there was simply too much of it… as if half of some of the posts were just one liners meant to express a noise in different degrees of bolded, sized, and other coded words. You should be able to, as a writer, provide emphasis without colored words, bolded words, or change in font size or type. That sort of thing is often times a turn off.
Mechanics 7.5
Only a few mechanical errors here and there, nothing huge though.
Clarity 4
As noted in the beginning notes, though the style was well done, it was also really hard to follow sometimes. I had to re-read a lot of things, so that I could understand what you meant by the wording you chose to use.
Wild Card 5
For writing something not only so weighted down by purple prose, but also something that was character intensive, I’m going to have to give you a huge thumbs up. Realistically, it was extremely well done. However, the entire thing was in colors, which made it hard to read, and is annoying as all hell. Unless there is a reason for the colored text, I don’t think it should be in there. Of course, that’s your prerogative, in the end, but it’s a quickly budding pet-peeve of mine now as well.
Score: 61!
Rewards:
Ruby La Roux :: 610 exp | 220 gold
Duffy Bracken :: 280 exp | 75 gold
Taskmienster
09-27-09, 02:14 PM
How The Orb Came To Pass (solo) :: I’ll be getting this for you, and I must say that even from the very beginning, I was amazed with how well you are writing. The style has changed since the last thread I judged of yours, and though it was well done, this one was much better mechanically. However, a few things I have to harp on. Your text is in colors, that aren’t regular. I am not liking that, it’s just annoying really. You also have a way of writing that, though eloquent, loses a little of it’s touch when I have to read over and over the same thing to understand what it said and what it meant.
Continuity 6
It wasn’t until much later in the thread that I finally got a bit of what was the purpose of the thread. It was almost as if you spent most of the time writing a truly amazing piece of prose in regards to action, setting, and persona… but forgot to tell me what was going on, who was in it, and what the purpose of the thread was until later when it caught up with you.
Setting 7.5
Elaborately described, well thought out, beautifully ornate, and a pacing killer. I must say that it was close to perfect, if I didn’t have to keep reading it over again and again to try and make the picture in my mind.
Pacing 4
The pacing… my goodness, it was slow. I was just dragging through pages of purple prose, overly elaborate descriptions of etiquette, dresses, drapery, and noble nonsense. Though the rest of the scores will be great, the pacing was so slow I actually re-read the same thing multiple times because I didn’t realize it was different at first. There’s a certain line you should be watching for, not too much as to cause the reader to think that they’re trying to get through part of the LotR series (which was droll and slow) and not too fast as to leave the reader wondering when they got to the last post and what happened between. Purple prose tends to veer your writing to the former instead of that happy medium between the two.
Dialogue 7.5
Again, eloquence to its peak, with truly amazingly rich and realistic speech patterns and word choice. However, I must say that when you type dialogue, it’s best not to muddle it into the paragraph again and again. It’s hard to follow when you’re reading something, and a single 3 sentence response is split three times so that you can describe the way they moved, what they did, and which way someone’s eyes went. That sort of stuff tends to make me read it, then continue with the dialogue only to not remember what was being said. So it’s almost as if I should just skip the stuff in the middle and try and follow what’s being said, then go back and read the interrupting reactions. Dialogue is best at the end, beginning, or set aside completely. In the middle is not always a bad place, and can be done correctly often, but not as frequently as it was done in this thread.
Action 6
The action befit the setting, and the writing style, however it was somewhat muddled as was explained in pacing and other portions of the judgment. All in all, it was slow, though very well done.
Persona 6.5
Like I said in the other sections, this was done really well at the expense of other points. There is a certain quality that you are looking for when you write, display the characters personalities through their actions and dialogue as well as through the narrative itself. It can be difficult with multiple NPC’s as well as your PC running around, but at the same time makes it more realistic when each person is dynamic and round. You did that well, for the most part. Sometimes I felt as if the persona of a character changed slightly, and I don’t mean the difference between real Ruby and her acting. I mean in general with some of the NPC’s. Just keep it consistent, and keep it well done, and you’re fine. You did both of those rather well.
Technique 7
Style-wise, your writing was really well done. Surprised me, to be honest, because of how different it was since the last thing you wrote. However, great writing with flowery flair doesn’t necessarily make it easy to read. Too much flowery words and you’ll lose the writer. Impressed, yes they will be, able to comprehend what was said, possibly not. Also, when you write it’s ok to put in things like “tic/toc/tic”, even separating them to provide emphasis, but it felt like there was simply too much of it… as if half of some of the posts were just one liners meant to express a noise in different degrees of bolded, sized, and other coded words. You should be able to, as a writer, provide emphasis without colored words, bolded words, or change in font size or type. That sort of thing is often times a turn off.
Mechanics 7.5
Only a few mechanical errors here and there, nothing huge though.
Clarity 4
As noted in the beginning notes, though the style was well done, it was also really hard to follow sometimes. I had to re-read a lot of things, so that I could understand what you meant by the wording you chose to use.
Wild Card 5
For writing something not only so weighted down by purple prose, but also something that was character intensive, I’m going to have to give you a huge thumbs up. Realistically, it was extremely well done. However, the entire thing was in colors, which made it hard to read, and is annoying as all hell. Unless there is a reason for the colored text, I don’t think it should be in there. Of course, that’s your prerogative, in the end, but it’s a quickly budding pet-peeve of mine now as well.
Score: 61!
Rewards:
Ruby La Roux :: 610 exp | 220 gold
Duffy Bracken :: 280 exp | 75 gold
Taskmienster
09-27-09, 02:18 PM
Exp and GP added.
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